


🃏The Three Jokers🃏

by BroomEater2001



Series: The Fantabulous Emancipation of One Timmy Turner [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Fairly OddParents, Joker (2019), SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Impostor(s) (Among Us), Angst, Assault, Bar Room Brawl, Character Analysis, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Vore, Dom/sub, Drunken Flirting, Father-Son Relationship, Femdom, Gardens & Gardening, Hospitalization, Hot Sex, Master/Slave, Men Crying, Multi, Murder, Nuns, Orgasm, Robot/Human Relationships, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Twitch Chat, Video & Computer Games, Video Format: Streaming, Walk Into A Bar, Walking, reddit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroomEater2001/pseuds/BroomEater2001
Summary: There are 3 Jokers, these are their stories. Perhaps they will overlap? Hmm, maybe...
Relationships: Jerma985/Star_, Joji/Angry Video Game Nerd, Joker & Dolores-Day Crocker, Joker/Neekolul, Juandissimo Magnifico/Reader, Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton/Eugene Krabs
Series: The Fantabulous Emancipation of One Timmy Turner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926691
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [now a major motion youtube-video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bzb81AoIt8)

As a preface, you will no doubt have noticed that this story involves the machinations of no less than 3 Jokers, as such, to differentiate between these characters, the following abbreviations will be used.

DK = Dark Knight Joker, as seen in the film The Dark Knight.

JB = Joker Baby Joker, known for his seminal line “I’m the Jokah Baby!”

JJ = Joker Joker, from the film Joker, starring the Joker.

In the video, 100 ACCURATE LIFE HACKS, George “Joji” Miller, then known as Filthy Frank, astutely demonstrates a procedure to, as Timmy Turner put it “just fucking end it”, wherein a shotgun is utilized in the mastication of the user’s face, the trigger being pulled by the big toe.

Timmy’s big toe is, pretty big, Timmy on the other hand, is pretty small. The shotgun, propped up by Timmy’s pathetic impotent legs, as Timmy pulls the trigger, falls down, and instead of eviscerating Timmy’s face, eviscerates Timmy’s pathetic, impotent, penis.

🎵Timmy’s now a eunuch kid, that’s no longer a man

🎵His now castrated willy’s, bloodied tenderized and stamped (by a gun)

“Uoooonungh, ungh, UUuuuuuUUuuuhhhhh, I’m, yungh ungh, roooooooooohahahah, yooooo, I’m the Jooooooouuuuuungh, Joker baby!” he is, he really is the Joker, and as he approaches the moment of insemination, she is in ecstasy.

“Aren’t I the Joker, baby!” JB says, punctuation each syllable with a thrust into what can only be described as her tuna abyss.

“Whatever you say, Joker.” She manages to eek out moments before orgasm.

A lot of people might not know this, but what you’re about to read is what woman’s orgasms sound like:

“Ratttatttattattattattattatt, ding, it’s orgasm time.”

“Oh yeah you dirty whore? You’re a whore, aren’t you?”

“W-whatever you say, J-J-Joker!!!!”

JB’s makeup is now beginning to dissolve in pussy juice.

Smoking a cigarette, JJ walks down the avenues of Bikini Bottom, strolling the streets, having just escaped from ARKHAM ASYLUM.

But why is ARKHAM ASYLUM, the hotel of horrors, the penitentiary of the perverse, the duplex of degenerates, the maisonette of murderers, at the bottom of the deep blue sea?

Now JJ is walking past Conch street, and lo, within his ringing ears, and his society-soaked mind, what does he hear?

It is none other than a Tuesday at 5:00am BBT (Bikini Bottom Time), and none other than Mr. Eugene H. Krabs, is kissing the floor that Karen treads over, behind him, Mr. Sheldon J. Plankton, kisses the kisses laid by Krabs, which once again were laid onto the floor treaded on by Karen.

Earlier that morning, Karen had of course been texting none other than XJ-9, or as her online handle presents her, XXXJ-9. Here is a transcript of their WhatsApp conversation:

Goddess_Karen: Hi hun! Did I leave my blue strapon at your’s? I’m such a ditz 😅😅

XXX_J9: Hi K! How was Beauclair? I hope that little cuck of yours had his money go to something worthwhile for once

XXX_J9: oh yeah I think you left it here you definitely left the blueberry flavored lube

Goddess_Karen: Which cuck do you mean lol 😂😂😂

Goddess_Karen: Oh drat! I guess I’ll have to come up with something a little bit more “unique” for ol’ Planky. 🧼🍆😈

Goddess_Karen: We’re still on for Saturday right?

XXX_J9: ofc

Goddess_Karen: thx, hey give chip 100 spanks from me when he gets back from tour ok? 😈

XXX_J9: will do lol

Wait, hold on, why and how come is JJ is able to light a cigarette under water, this seems to me to be inconsistent with the properties I ascribe to water.

The JJ notes this seemingly incongruity, and in fact intends to in the future utilize it in one of his Joker jokes.

“Hello Reddit, my [29M] wife [18F] of 2 years has asked me [29M] to get a vasectomy since she [18F] has become pregnant [2months], how do I tell her [26DD], that I [8 years a Redditor] that I’ve already had a vasectomy?”

Dark Knight Joker in the dim light afforded to him by his lcd monitor reads this /r/relationship_advice post, it is 3am and DK Joker is still unable to remember his reddit password.

He is not logged into his main account.

Hours earlier, Dolores-Day Crocker got the call, the call every mother to a pedophile school teacher fears, the vomit police at her door, telling her the details of his arrest, she stands below them, their silhouette covering her tear-imbibed façade; DK watches from the bushes.

Having just seen such an event, and not wanting to be the back-breaking straw, DK insists, nay, begs for Dolores to please just leave today’s gardening payment, she’s been through so much already, he couldn’t possibly accept it after what he heard.

“Oh DK, you’re too kind, but truly, the money’s no issue, I insist you take it.”

“Please Mrs. Crocker, if you will not let me refuse the money, can I at least help you with the requests the police gave.”

“Oh DK, alright. The officer, Mr. Scritchy-scratch, he wanted me to access my boy’s laptop and computer to look for any possible explana-“

“I heard Ma’am. Don’t worry your lovely head, please just rest here on your sofa duvet while I take care of it, would you like some chamomile tea?”

“Oh DK you sweetheart, no thanks, I think I’ll just rest hear for a while?”

DK takes off his gardening apron, and takes of his clown shoes, covered as they are in slices of grass. Walking down the stairs to the basement. DK is immediately stuck by the stench of piss and vomit, truly, it is a miracle the vomit police did not shoot Crocker on the spot.

In the garden, it’s worth noting, exist a variety of herbs, most notably basil and mint, which Mrs. Crocker of course utilizes in the preparation of what can only be described as a wide variety of dishes, none of which are available in vomit prison.

Sitting down in a suspiciously damp gamer chair, DK finds himself at the brunt end of a password screen, Crocker chose the chess pieces with red background as his Windows XP user picture, the truest sign of mental instability, DK knowing the signs too well.

“Please input password” the monitor beckons. DK tries his luck with the classic “peepeepoopoo”. No luck.

Hint: Best Smash Character LUL

“Ice Climbers” Try Again.

Shouting politely, Joker politely shouts “Mrs. Crocker? What did Crocker main when you played Super Smash Brothers Ultimate with him?”

“Oh, DK.”

“Thanks!”

“Donkey Kong” Welcome Denzel.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7nQ2oiVqKHw>

“You wanna do it up the butt?”

“Ok, Joker.”

“wait, really!?”

“Whatever you say, Joker.”


	2. Chapter 2

The background wallpaper is that of Rem in white lingerie.

The lingerie is not fully opaque.

📄Fairymanifesto.txt

📄Rapideas.txt

📁CBT Hentai

📁Homework [TO CORRECT]

📁Homework [CORRECTED]

🌐Incels.co – shortcut

🌐[Emergence] Metamorphosis - shortcut

🌐Reddit – shortcut

Click.

reddit: the front page of the internet

sort by: hot

  1. 🔼4060 /r/games “CD Projekt Red aren’t bundling copies of Cyberpunk 2077 with child pornography!!!”
  2. 🔼39k /r/aww “Hi reddit, my mentally *and* physically disabled parents just became citizens today! 🇺🇸 🇺🇸 🇺🇸“ 3x reddit gold
  3. 🔼904 /r/MadeMeSmile “Keanu Reeves violently assaults and disembowels man in front of his children”
  4. 🔼2018 /r/PublicFreakout “Karen BITCHES at bystander for his so called ‘murder of her 2 children”
  5. 🔼9001 /r/Futurology “Pornhub announces partnership with Elon Musk’s Neuralink, promising ‘…fully immersive sexual simulation experience.’”
  6. 🔼7767 /r/relationship_adivce "[UPDATE] Hi again reddit! Me [18F]and my now ex-husband [29cuck] worked things out. Thanks for all the help!!!!”
  7. 🔼5092 /r/GetMotivated “Young go-getter works 80-hour weeks to pay for mother’s insulin. What’s your excuse?”
  8. 🔼17k /r/marvelstudios “Am I the only one who thinks Thor: The Dark World is better than any of David Lynch’s so called ‘films’?”
  9. 🔼10k /r/AskReddit “[NSFW] Redditors of reddit, what’s your favourite sex toy sex position, and what are some stories from bed you’ve been DYING to tell?”



And so on and so forth.

DK, scrolls and scrolls, reading through every post, clicking on all of the links within. He does this out of a sense of duty, but duty to what, or tho whom? Why is DK working as a gardener? Why does he offer to help Dolores-Day for free?

Suddenly he finds it.

  1. 🔼68 /r/braincels “Average Kid Rushed to Hospital after Self-Castration brought on by Pump-Action Shotgun” dimmsdaletimes.org



Click.

“Babbbbyyyy, come back to bed…”

“Sorry honey, inspiration has struck, I must work.”

“Wh-whatever you say, Joker…” Neekolul yawns out, half asleep, clutching ever so angelically to the sweat-and-cum-stained bedsheets.

Sitting on a very uncomfortable dinner chair, lit only by the LCD light of his Thinkpad, JB sits back, cracks his fingers, and begins writing his magnum opus.

Everybody Wants to See This Happen

A Jerma985 X Star_ smutfic

By the_russler_bb

“How bout you suck a fart outta my ass?” Jeremy says sardonically to Steven, his classic patented grin hinting out of his serious façade.

“Wow big guy, BIG GUY over here, get a load of this guy.” Steven is struck by Jerma’s incredible personality, struck long enough for him to be even momentarily distracted from his Zarya Diamond tier OW match.

“What is that some sort of currency thing?” Jerma hasn’t played Overwatch in years. He thinks diamond tier is an in-game microtransaction system.

“It’s kind of a cliché.” Star_ points out, and in fact it is this very poignant point that makes him switch of his gamer computer. Choosing instead to turn his full attention and also his full, fully formed, fully available body, to Jerma.

Jerma stares very intently at a a certain buldge tenting up in Star_’s sweatpants.

Licking his lips, Jerma mentions “I’d eat captain crunch, I’d eat count chocula, I’d eat boo-berry, I’d eat them all up as a kid.” As he says this, Jerma has gotten off Star_’s bed, and has begun crawling towards Star_’s gamer chair.

Pulling himself up by the now ever-so-loosened sweatpants, Jerma is looking up at Steven from his crotchal area.

Steven pulls him up, and now they are in an embrace, Jeremy’s hand on Steven’s cock, two halves of a whole experience, sitting in a gamer chair.

Bring their bodies ever closer together, their breaths warmer on eachother’s skin every passing moment, Steven breaks the palpable tension in the air with no more than a whisper.

“This, this right here, this is where our adventure begins.”

8:00am BBT

“Wakey wakey slaves! I hope you enjoyed your 3 hours of sleep together in the cagey wagey! Actually, I hope you hated it hehehehheheh.” Karen emotes, kicking the metal cage with her caterpillar treads.

This kick upsets the delicate balance of the naked Eugene and Sheldon, naked except for their gags and chastity cages that is. The latter slave stacked on top of the former, much like the cherry on top of a cake made out of submission.

“One at a time losers!”

And so on all fours the crab and the plankter crawl on their knees out of the cage and into the fire, so to speak.

Now on their knees in front of Her, it begins.

“I hope your sleepover gave you bitches enough time to think of a good and proper compliment to start your worship with. Hmm, let’s start with you Eugene.” Karen announces, squatting above the two worms groveling at her feet, not allowed to make eye contact with her.

Her body, exfoliating as it is with chromic splendor - and cladded in latex - move to ungag the crab.

“You may speak slave.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh, thank you Goddess. My very being is in utter ecstasy at the opportunity it has been ever so generously given to grovel before you. Your very concept is powerful enough in it’s godliness to wipe out any evidence of my existence. What’s a man to a king? What’s a king to a god? And what’s a god to you, my Goddess, for surely there is no being in all of creation which could hold a candle to your every facet.”

“That’s enough slave, god, I get it, you’re a worm, that’s obvious from where I’m standing, I wanted to hear more about what specifically makes me so great, not that I don’t know hehe. Your turn Shell.”

Plankton’s knees are sore from kneeling, this turns him on considerably.

“Speak loser.”

“Thank you Goddess. F is for Female, the superior gender, the one whom I have the honor of serving. U is for Unending Servitude, that which I have the honor of giving you through means of worshiping your feet. N is for Nurturing Breasts, which prove beyond a shadow of a doubt your sheer and utter right to rule over as worms.”

“Ugh! That’s enough pig! God! I don’t want to hear about what a horny loser you are, Jesus Christ! Just for that your foot-licking privileges are revoked for the month!”

Karen’s visage is filled with pure and utter contempt, leaving these ocean scum before her no recourse but to grovel and shake out of fear and sincere regret.

“An awful display from the both of you! Just for that your tribute’s for the month have gone up by at least 500 dollars! Each!”

The paypigs nod their heads, as is their honor.

“Well let’s just get on with the monthly orgasm then. Fetch the tools piggies!”

“Hey you, you’re finally awake.”

“C-C-Cosmo?”

“We don’t carry any women’s magazine around here pally.”

“I-I-I wish…”

“Yeah I wish we did too pal, my wife loves the columns inside ‘em, me personally, I’m all for the covers, if you know what I’m saying heh.”

“I wish I-“

“Could get yourself out of here? Well you’re out of luck pally, you sure as heck ain’t old enough to sign the release warrant, and when we phones your parents they didn’t seem to keen on half-assing their little 6th honeymoon getaway.”

“-wish I could-“

“Even if you could sign the forms, I don’t know what you’d put in the ‘gender’ category, if you catch my meaning hehehheh.”

“-I-I-could-“

“I’m just messing with you hombre, you might never be able to reproduce, or piss, but you can present however you want ya little gaspatcho.”

“-c-could feel-my”

“Anyway, I’ll be getting the doctor now, he’ll fill you in on some details, if you need anything just ask for nurse Bofa. Ciao.”

“-feel my, my crotch.”

JJ, still walking down the aforementioned avenues, stops for a while, near the bus stop for Glove World. And he stands there, in the blinding morning sun, his skin a mixture of sweat and scars. And all alone, on a pavement, tears begin to run down his face, a complete and utter deluge of tears come out from his eyes, meeting the sun and shining appropriately. He begins to laugh.

“hehHEHAHEHHHAAAHAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAEEHHAHHAeeHHAHAAhhh.”

He isn’t laughing cause it’s funny. He’s laughing cause it’s sad.


	3. Chapter 3

In a pool, well more of a puddle, in a puddle of her blood (not her period blood, that would be weird and gross, her organ blood, cause she’s been stabbed and disemboweled by JB), lays Neekolul, being photographed by the murder police, she is unable to respond to the harsh lights in front of her by closing her eyes, for she cannot close her eyes, since she is dead.

“Wait, Neekolul is dead? But I love her!” JB didn’t say. He didn’t say this because JB didn’t love Neekolul, as sad as it sounds, and as sad as it is, JB had anal and vaginal sex with Neekolul for only the sake of having done so. So, to clarify, while JB didn’t love Neekolul, he certainly made love to her.

“Wait, Neekolul is dead? But I love her!” Millions of fans of Neekolul’s immaculate personality and massive sense of humor will not doubt say when news of such an event is published the following morning.

“What do you make of this case, rookie?” asks nobody. There are no rookies on this case, it’s being handled by professionals, at the behest and kind monetary supplementation of Neekolul’s longtime father Doug Dimmadome owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“Please make sure the person who murdered my daughter is brought to justice.” Doug Dimmadome won’t say, not because he does not wish for justice, but because Dough Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, is not actually Neekolul’s father, he is in fact her sugar daddy. The word “father” was being used colloquially.

“Chief, according to these readings, there’s trace stains of semen in the bedsheets, Mr. Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, sure won’t like this.”

Nobody said that either, there weren’t any semen stains on the bedsheets, nor could there have been, since JB practiced safe sex, he used a condom.

“🎵If you ever go, all the songs that we like will sound like bittersweet lullabies🎵”

Joji croons to the sold-out theatre audience, a concert hall brimming with a wide variety of George Miller fans. Within this incredible display of human enjoyment of Joji, three particular characters are of note.

“🎵Lost in the blue, they don’t love me like you do🎵”

Hello everyone, he’s the Nostalgia critic, he remembers it so you don’t have to. Haunted by plagues of loss, pain, agony, torment, mistakes, accidents, choices made for the wrong reasons, Doug Walker is in the audience of 70,000. He knows what he’s done.

“🎵Those chills that I knew, they were nothing without you🎵”

The concert hall smells of diarrhea dog shit. And so, the angriest nerd you’ve ever heard, along with a wide variety of others, put their hands up and sway along to the rhythm. James Rolfe would under usual circumstance comment on how the song’s melodic tune makes him want to ask Bugs Bunny (who he knows) to spit, shit and cum into his ears; these however are not usual circumstances.

“🎵And everyone else, they don't matter now🎵”

As the concert lights go from blackness to redness to whiteness, we find infamous sexual predator Tobuscus, who unsurprisingly is at this concert not due to an appreciation of Joji’s lo-fi triphop but is instead here specifically to groom and later sexually assault underage girls. Instead of swaying his arms, he begins to dance.

“🎵You're the one I can't lose, no one loves me like you do🎵”

8:20am BBT

Ah, Bikini Bottom.

Mr. Krabs and Plankton have crawled back and forth on the floor, covered as it is in rice, and have used nothing but their collective mouths to transport a wide variety of butt plugs, chastity cages, strap-ons, double-ended dildo’s, single-ended dildo’s, handcuffs, leg spreaders, lengths of rope, sounding devices, suction cups, and paddles into the dungeon. Only a handful of these items which have been painstakingly placed in front of Her will be used in the extraction of Mr. Krab’s orgasm.

She begins to speak.

“Alright Shell you know full well that Eugene’s given me a hefty sum more tribute money this month than you have. So he gets to have an orgasm and you don’t. Awww, baby gonna cry?? Maybe shit and piss, but definitely not cum hehehheehahahhaha!”

Plankton of course, heavily enjoys not being allowed to orgasm, nevertheless, in order to submit to Her description of events, Plankton beings to sniffle as he comments the following:

“Yes goddess, I understand that useless paypig’s such as myself are less worthy of orgasm than a mature succulents are worthy of being watered.”

“Ugh, even once every 4-6 weeks is far too often for roaches like you.”

“Yes goddess of course goddess.”

“You no longer have permission to speak slave. Now, Eugene, let’s get to working on your reward for giving me so much funko pop money. You love giving me money to spend on funko pops don’t you loser?”

Mr. Eugene H. Krabs, HATES funko pops, he utterly despises them and is noticeably more perturbed when in the same room as one.

“I do goddess.”

“Speak in full sentences slave.”

“I love giving you money to buy funko pops goddess.”

“Good boy. Now, eeny meeny miny mo...”

“Timmy, do you understand what I’m telling you.”

“…”

In Timmy’s sick and twisted mind, every single neuron of thought is dedicated to the contradiction between his current inability to feel anything around his crotch, and the searing hot memory of the very real very intense feeling which were emanating from his crotch a mere day ago.

Timmy nods his head.

“Good, now, as far as introductions go, you’ve already met Nurse Bofa, and in future he’ll be instructing you on use of a catheter and other such functionalities.”

“…”

Timmy does not know it, but he is laying in the same bed Vicky did when she got her Extracorporeal Shock Wave Lithotripsy.

“Me myself, I’m Doctor Ligma, and I’m currently here to inform you of some of the surgeries performed on your person as a response to trauma endured.”

“…”

At this exact moment, at a Beauclair honeymoon resort, Mrs. Turner orgasms for the second time in as many hours.

“Now, I’m not sure how much time you’ve had to yourself, but if you’ve looked under the sheets of your bed, you may have noticed tha-”

“Ayy, Doctor Ligma, visitor in the waiting room for Mr. Turner.”

“I see, I’ll be speaking to you later young one.”

Timmy is awoken from his mental carousel of anguish.

“v-v-visitor?”

“That’s right amigo, they say they’re your uhhh, godparent. I’ll uhh, I’ll go let ‘em in.”

Timmy is frozen. Unable to respond, utterly out of his mind in confusion.

“…”

Timmy is crashing (mentally), his entire essence being boiled down to a single atom, an atom of fear regret and shame and horror.

All of a sudden, out of the blinding hallway lights, emerges a man of green hair.

My name is Y/N, I’m Y/A years old, and THIS is my diary. I’m interfacing with you today on accounts of I just CAN’T contain my excitement over MY BOYFRIEND Juandissimo Magnifico.

Ok ok ok so the reason I’m writing this all down even though I’ve been dating Juanny (he lets me call him Juanny!!!!!!!!) is that well, my friends are getting kinda tired of hearing me speak of nothing other than how cool and HOT Juanny is. OMG he’s just, every facet is like it’s taken straight out of my dreams, it’s like I’m hallucinating pure beauty (sometimes he even rips his shirt!!!) and it’s like, evert word that comes out of his mouth I feel like I’m gonna throw up he’s so hot! Ugh, he’s definitely the Juan for me (YES I USED THAT JOKE ON HIM AND HE LAUGHED!!!!)

…

OMG I just went to the beach with Juanny and we had ice-cream and he picked the mint chocolate ice cream (his favorite) and he dropped it on his shirt and so what he did was he riPPED IT OFFFFFF! I swooned, I really did swoon.

…

OMG x2 you’ll never even believe it but Juanny, he, he, kissed me, on the cheek!!!!!!!!!!!!!

9:15am BBT

“MMmf MMmmmmmmmmf!” Mr.Krabs emotes, gagged and drooling as Karen crouches behind his intricately tied and bound body, alternating a 10” silicone cock in and out of his pulsating Patrick of an anus.

“Yeah uh-uh you like that don’t you? Oh of course you do, I say you do after all!” Karen synthesizes, her eye-analogues fully dilated in pleasure and sadism. She pushed the train into the tunnel, so to speak.

“*lick* *lick*” Plankton licks.

“Are you gonna buy me more funko pops?”

Mr. Krabs nods his head.

“*lick* *slurp*” Plankton licks and slurps.

What is Plankton lick lick licking and slurping?

Flashback to Karen preparing Krabs for his orgasm.

“Now Shelly, since you’re such a pathetic poor waste of a pay-piggy, it’s only fair that you show Eugene how much better of a slave he is for giving me my deserved tribute, isn’t that right?”

Plankton vigorously nods.

“Good little bitch! So then, I have a special way for tiny pathetic betas like you to help your superior slaves know just how above you they are.” Karen patronizes to Plankton, with giggles in her speech, as she grabs and reveals to Plankton a syringe filled with lubricant.

Flashforward back to the present, and it becomes clear that Plankton is in fact lick lick licking and slurping (and also it should be noted, massaging) on Eugene’s prostate, a prostate which Plankton was given access to after being injected into Eugene’s urethra through the use of the syringe. As such, Plankton is stuck within Mr. Krabs bladder until such a point that Plankton with the help of Karen’s anal expedition manage to get Mr. Krabs to ejaculate.

Such an event is about to arrive.


	4. Chapter 4

Timmy is oh-god-oh-fucking, he is in an absolute moment of collapse, despite the tranquilizing drugs coursing through his system, he cannot help but feel every ounce of blood and nerve in his body demand him to run immediately out of the window and into the ability to be done with things on account of a caved in pavement-head.

Timmy is slanted on the medical bed, enchanted with grief, his nethers the only region of his body not catastrophized with overwhelming fear and grief.

Timmy once wished to know whether or not there was a god, whether or not the afterlife existed, to know which religions were real, if any. The answer he had received is not very helpful to him in the current situation.

Timmy is not ready for the absolute vengeance Cosmo is about to intricate him into, the stages of this grief are attempting a world record speedrun.

But it isn’t Cosmo. It’s the Joker.

A baby weeps six halls away, the wails linger and reflect in the granite tiling as DK breaths in to say:

  
“Timmy Turner?”

Timmy’s mind is unable to reconcile the fact that the voice is not the pitch he expected, instead of coming to terms with reality he begins slowly curling into himself, his spine gaining a fetal persuasion. A ball of Timmy, eyes as hollow as his scrotum.

There are no words necessary, and so DK does not bother with them, his clown shoes honk him to Timmy’s side of the bed, he extends his arms, not to t-pose, but to embrace Timmy, and so he does.

In the abyssal confines of DK’s séance sheeting, Timmy is there, being.

“Pokimane”

“Pokimane netorth”

“Pokimane networth”

“Pokimane america”

“Pokimane apartement”

“Pokimane spotted IRL”

“Pokimane fan meetup”

“Pokimane boyfriend?”

4:30am BBT

There’s a knock at the door, Karen opens the Chum Bucket’s metal façade. It’s Sheldon and Eugene, standing in the street, K I S S I N G.

They really are kissing; Plankton went to pick up Mr. Krabs and Eugene was so flattered at such a kind gesture that he’s been cuddly and soft with Sheldon the whole way from 3451 Anchor Way.

Plankton’s computer wife’s computer heart is warmed as it processes the sight of her 2 subs enjoying each other’s company so utterly. She would squee if her midi board was capable of such a range of frequencies, and it is, so she does.

Inviting everyone to the living room wearing a bath robe and offering everyone a warm cup of coffee, and a bathrobe, Karen talks through the scene she had planned out using 8.21 Teraflops of processing power (because she is a computer wife), making sure that boundaries are set properly and consensually etcetera etcetera.

“So, I had this idea, I don’t know, it’s sort of embarrassing, you know, I don’t really know if you guy’s’d be into it.”

“Please honey we’d love to know.” Says Sheldon, sitting in Eugene’s lap, thoroughly enjoying that fact. Krabs nods accordingly.

“Well, ok.” Karen can’t blush (q.v.: computer wife) but if she could, she’d be blushing right now “I was thinking, you know how the prostate is accessible through the urethra…”

And the rest is history…

Barely keeping himself together, JJ walks into a bar.

He closes the door behind him. Barred, none can enter.

None are in the bar other than the Joker.

None other than the Joker asks the barman “What’ll it be what’ll it be?”

Oh man, the barman, he didn’t like that, not one bit. To the barman that was bar none the worst thing the barman had heard that day. Well, not bar none, bar one, bar the bar-nun.

Bar-nun walked into a bar, it hurt her head, she got a bruise.

To soothe her pain, bar-nun walked into a bar.

“What’ll you have?” asked the barman. Bar-nun begun to ask if they sold beer.

“Is that a joke? Er, yeah, of course we sell beer.”

Bar-nun bartered with the barman, the bequeathed beer barred some of the pain from her mind, numbing it with alcohol.

The Joker jokes, but it gets him nowhere, he sees the barman wants him out, but what of the bar-nun?

“Mind your own business!” The barman commands, minding his bosses business.

“Look at yourself, corrupting those who keep the faith. You feint innocence, but your insolence has caused indecent inebriance.”

“Good grief man, get a grip.”

Joker didn’t like that, not one bit. He walks into a bar and grabs it. He walks the barman into a bar. Yowch!

Wait sorry, not the barman, the bar, man.

“Not the bar man!” The barman barrs.

Bar none didn’t like that, bar bar-nun, who didn’t like that, not one bit. She leaves the bar, looking for green pastures.

“I’m looking for greener pastures.” jokes the joker, although it wasn’t a joke, more of a sentence conjugated in the present continuous.

“Present your constitutes.” The joker continues, stalwart in moxie. The joker continues to bar the bar, leaving dents in all the stools.

“Alright alright, what’d’y’need what’d’y’need?” The barman harks. Somewhat mockingly.

“Not a lark, I’m just your average Joe; care for myself just like you would. I need a respite place.”

“How about the barn under this bar?” The barman barfs out, bartering with his own life, a metal bar pointed at him like a knife.

“I can give you a few tips.” Bar-nun imparts unto your JJ.

“Thanks a ton.” Joker says, no longer in such dismay. For he knows someday, this’ll all make for a joker joke.

DK walks with his hand behind his back, looking down at his honky clown shoe’d feet. To their left, passages Timmy Turner, who while free’d physically from the Intensive Care Unit, is still trapped in a mental haze.

They walk past the autumn trees, their shadows providing a pathway for the two of them two walk through. Timmy’s eyes accustomed to the fluorescent hospital lights feel drunkenly overwhelmed, it was only by his previous sheer and utter dissociation that he was prior able to handle his prior situation, now onward he will have no choice but to endure on his own body’s merits. Let his body hit the threshold of determination required.

Timmy walks in one moment as a soldier getting ready to board the boats to Normandy, and in another moment as some sort of leaf in some sort of wind.

“Listen to me now, and I think, tell me, have you ever experienced a lustful sense of listlessness?”

Timmy doesn’t nod, but essentially, he did.

“Have you ever found yourself in a rut, unable to even imagine wanting to try and escape it?”

Timmy once again nods without nodding.

“Have you ever been told your decisions are entirely your own, that you alone are the only person responsible for your life choices...”

Timmy nods, but this time he actually does it, his head actually moves.

“...That there is no excuse for what you did, no factors that went into it other than your own soul. That there is no all-encompassing system of systems, actively or incidentally influencing every possible decision you’ve ever made or been told to make?”  
Timmy would at this point nod, but his captivation was too great.

“…and have these notions made your very essence burn with as-of-yet-impotent fervor.”

Timmy nods, vigorously. Or well, he doesn’t actually nod, it’s like, an emotional nod.

Stopping for a moment in their tracks, DK begins to stream tears from his eyes as he reassures Timmy holding him reassuringly on the shoulder.

They then continue walking.

They are walking because DK’s bus ticket expired.

The party is over for the angry video game nerd. The encore’s encore encored, and now nothing is left on the stage other than the cleanup crew, who James Rolfe can’t help but feel sympathetic for. After all, he’s seen his fair share of messes, most of which were made by himself, like for example this one time, he managed to shatter his wood panel basement walls as if they were glass.

Anyway, what’s relevant is James’s location, being but a particle in the monsoon of crowd members making way to their transportation arrangements, buses will overfill with still swooning sororities of senoritas, trains will take trepidations couples, who just went to their first ever concert, back to their small villages with them making out all the way, hotels will overflow with drunken ravers, too foolhardy in their lo-fi rapacity to have made any preparations for getting back home. The angriest nerd you’ve ever heard of in the meanwhile, heads for his car.

As he is looking for the off-white outback Subaru, someone is looking that is to say spying him with his little eye.

“James? James Rolfe of Cinnemassacre?” turning his head in fear, James is honestly confused to find a the man himself waving towards him.

Joji is humbled to know one of his great personal inspirations is there in the flesh, presumably having seen his largest and greatest concert to date.

They hang out for a bit.

The party is over for Tobuscus. This applies both in a figurative and a literal sense.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for known sexual predator Tobuscus to be in awful situations, and this is without a doubt what he created when he began to dance in the middle of Joji’s croons.

It stated clearly on the ticket that known pipe-bomb sellers (of which Tobuscus is one of) have sanctions placed on them when attending public events. This is what a bouncer was trying to enforce.

“Hey you are you dancing? It’s actually ten dollars (for sexual predator pipe-bomb sellers) to dance in here!”

Tobuscus handled this situation the way any cocaine addicted child groomer would. He attempted to assault the bouncer.

And now being literally kicked out from the establishment before even the first encore had started, Tobuscus does the opposite of introspection (meth) and plots his next spout of child assault, but he didn’t make any transportation arrangements so he needs to find a hotel first.

The party is over for the Nostalgia Critic. As he walks out the party, looking for his ivory Subaru Impreza, carrying the shame of 1000 misdeeds. He looks for the flashing lights his car-keys invoke. Like a moth to a flame, the finds himself burnt out. And this is all before a seminal moment. That is to say, before the seminal moment which happens now, as Doug Walker is made aware in the smallest glint of his peripheral vision, of a sight he could not imagine, and which nevertheless stabs him.

James Rolfe and Joji are sharing a beer, a rolling rock no less. Sharing what can only be described from afar as a cavalcade of roaring anecdotes. This is the final straw on the Doug Walker’s final back.

“Hello and welcome to the Tipton.”

JJ nods, he begins to enter the door, when he is cut off by two yellow-haired blurs riding on unicycles and essentially wackily racing around the hotel establishment he has just arrived to. They crash into the bellboy.

“Sorry Esteban, it was Cody’s fault, he’s a NERD!!!!”

“Shut up Zack.”

The ragamuffin being called a nerd seemed to be actively holding in a tear. All of a sudden JJ is flush with inspiration.

9:16am BBT

“Ratttatttattattattattattatt, ding, it’s orgasm time.”


	5. Chapter 5

In the book of famous and poignant quotes one of the most famous most poignant and most quoted quotes is as follows:

“Those who go looking for death will surely find it.”

I’m not a professional quote-maker but even a novice like me I think can really appreciate the pounds and kilograms of horsemeat that this quote is carrying on its lyrical backside.

To start with, there’s the obvious straightforwardness of the text, those who go looking for death *will* find it, this is in like, heavy contrast to say, people who go looking for happiness or love, in which cases often the whole point is that by looking for their desired object, they didn’t realize that true love happiness was the friends they made along the way.

And so over here we have in 10 words a tale telling us about the frailty and the fragility of human life, showing us that our desires can lead us astray lest they be kept in healthy check. And obviously that message resonates heavily with the pre-modern, very feudal society old quotes like these tend to originate from. It makes a lot of sense that something like this might be said by village elders who want to warn their young of the dangers of going to become a knight or daring to not honor god and have premarital sex.

There’s also a bit of an Icarus angle to the quote if you interpret it the way it’s used in the Canterbury tales, so like, this quote is so old it’s been subverted, this quote is the Deadpool 2016 movie of its day.

With all this being said, there’s some interesting parallels which can come up when we ask the question “What happens to those who go looking for joker?” or “Do those who go looking for joker surely find it?”

When trying to ask this question, there’s no better place to start looking than Doug Walker. The veritable iceberg of regret that he is.

You probably don’t remember this, you didn’t have to, after all, but Doug Walker definitely remembers that aside from his role as the Nostalgia Critic, he put on many other acts in his day. Such as Bum reviews, in which he would review movies as a bum ranting and raving about them, in doing so deftly critiquing the state of metal healthcare in his home country (or at least, that’s how Doug would defend his blatantly insensitive and offensive portrayal of the homeless). There is also another far less know character, Voldemort-esque in that uttering their name send shivers down my spine. This character being none other than Melvin, Melvin, brother of the Joker.

There’s so much density to this knowledge. The very idea of Doug Walker having just finished a Nostalgia Critic review of Kindergarten Cop, switching off the digital camera, going into his bathroom and putting on white foundation clown makeup which he bought a week ago from the costume store, smearing it on his face, looking at himself in the face, his eyes dead and indescribable not in their emptiness but in their fullness. He takes the red lipstick and intentionally smears it all over his face, he grabs the dirty green wig and puts it on, he switches the camera back on.

What just happened? Did Doug Walker put on his Melvin makeup, or did Melvin take off this Doug makeup? And moreover, which would be worse?

“Wait? Wait hold on, so you’re telling me that your BAD INTERNET RAPPERS video was originally a shot for shot remake of my Simon’s Quest review?” after saying this owner of Cinnemasacre James Rolfe raises his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion while sipping rolling rock.

“Haha yeah, but then I watched the Mmm whatcha’ say video and kind of got a bit carried away. Haha...” Joji is making flirty eyes, it’s barely even subtle.

“You know in my later work I think I was really inspired by the THE GENTLEMEN’S GUIDE collab you did; I don’t think I ever really considered the visceral reaction an audience could uhh, have to pain and like, blood. Especially when contrasted to how attractive you all were. I guess I was thinking too small with all the prop feces and diarrhea and dog shit.” James has at this point forgotten that he was looking for his car.

“Haha yeah, I still have scars on my feet because of that video, you wanna see?” Joji is making bedroom flirty flirting eyes.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD!!!!!!!!”, yeah, I mean, I’m sure you can guess who it is that’s yelling this.

“Oh fuck sorry!” James responds, thinking in his slightly inebriated state that it was his phone that was drinking, bumping his elbow into the Volkswagen Beetle he was leaning on. In his slightly inebriated state, James forgot that it’s been over a decade since his ringtone was the sound of Doug Walker yelling ‘Nerd!’ at the top of his lungs. He only had the ringtone that way for like a week.

Having been looking in the right direction to notice who was yelling, Joji, midway through taking his shoe off, alerts James to who’s actually making that noise.

“Hey James, is that, do you know that guy?” Joji says, pouting even though he doesn’t know why, still trying to get his shoe off.

James Rolfe turns to see where Joji is pointing (notably Joji is using his right hand to point, his left hand is busy trying to hold and untie his left shoe), eventually his eyes make sense of the hazy blackness, and he sees the redness and whiteness of a crimson tie over a blank t-shirt.

Things will not go well from here.

“Hello and welcome to the Tipton can I take your order?” Mr. Mosby asks, he asks this to JJ, who has just entered the Tipton.

JJ has just walked into the Tipton, as he walked in, he was greeted by a man at the door. A man was at the door, stout and grey of hair, clearly aging, clearly aching in his shoes. This man, JJ thinks, this man lives for maybe, 30 more years? And less than zero of them will be spent standing at a door, ready and necessarily opening it with the ebbs and flows of the guests.

“Can I have a room, or should I say, is there any _room_ for me?”

“I’ll check right on that for you, please take a seat in our lobby.”

The Joker Joker, JJ, sits in the lobby. As time passes, he once again sees the two ragamuffins from earlier, having now overheard them he knows their names. Zack, and Cody. JJ notes how the names are not in alphabetical order.

These two blonde children seem to be orchestrating a scheme to get candy from a store operated by a lady named Madeline, JJ knows here name is Madeline because she wears a nametag with her name on it. The greeter at the door did not wear a nametag with his name on it.

In what can only be considered as a wacky and uncharacteristic series of high jinks, a scheme involving a set of luggage cases, a power outage, a second unrelated power outage in a neighboring building, a distant memory, a second unrelated set of identical luggage cases, and a rich lady buying something, the whole world wrapped around here, so to speak; all this is introduced and concludes right before JJ’s very eyes, all in the span of 20 or so minutes. On its conclusion, the two children did what can only be described as a downward dab towards each other, while imitating the noise people make when they suffer a seizure.

“Excuse me sir, I have an update regarding your desire for a room…” Mr. Mosby with these words has forced JJ to mosey on up to the reception desk.

“Update?” JJ asks, unsure if he was asking a question or issuing a demand.

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience sir, but it says here that all our rooms have been booked by the same man.” Mr. Mosby seems to be making a face and pausing for some sort of audience to react.

“Are you talking about the titular Mr. Tipton?” JJ is no such audience.

“No it seems like a Mr. Turner has taken each and every vacant room in the building under his name and card. My my, what a _turn_ of events.” Mr. Mosby makes a face sort of like his face is melting.

“Where is this Mr. Turner maybe him and I can strike an arrangement…” It’s uncertain what JJ meant by this, perhaps he meant that he’d arrange his fist into Mr. Turner’s mouth, perhaps he was being genuine and straightforward, perhaps JJ was just asking questions for their own sake.

“Oh, I think there’s _a range_ of ways that you can come to terms with one another alright…” Mr. Mosby pauses for what feels like a minute “he’s in one of these 48 rooms, here, I’ll draw you a map.”

JJ waits patiently for the inkjet printer to finish printing the mspaint document he can see open on Mr. Mosby’s monitor.

“Fedmyster drama”

“OfflineTV”

“OfflineTV company”

“offline tv mansion”

“tiktok mansion price”

“offline tv house”

“Los angeles Californa”

“los Angeles hotels”

“Los Angeles homeless shelters”

“Los Angeles homeless policy”

“tickets toLos Angeles”

Walking is the act of putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again. Putting one foot in front of the other is extremely difficult, to do so you need to know your own feet, to know the ground they walk on, and to know where you want your feet to take you.

Drumming is the act of hitting a drum over and over again in certain places. This is in contrast to a washing machine with a shoe in it, which hits it’s drum over and over again in certain places, based on a variety of forces.

Because of this distinction, we can say that Timmy has a shoe in a washing machine bouncing around the washing machine drum, except the washing machine is his mind, and the shoe, his regrets.

A gait is a person’s manner of walking. It’s based on a wide variety of factors, a person’s limb movements, their tilt, their stance, their height, and even their feet size, down to each of their toes. Timmy’s big toe is pretty big, Timmy on the other hand, is pretty small. As such he covers a lot less ground with each individual step.

Keep this in mind when noting that Timmy and DK have been walking for a long time, and DK is completely and utterly dead, he can feel each and every bone ache and beg for the sweet release of tension, it takes him a great deal of discipline to not fall down (which notably, if he did fall down, the whoopie cushion sewn into his pants would activate, creating a pretty wacky scenario indeed).

It is thus easy to imagine that Timmy’s legs are the wet spaghetti to Dk’s comparable dry spaghetti.

He walks and he can feel his jean-cladden thighs scrape on the bandages around his nethers.

But it would be a mistake to assume that the pain of Timmy’s washing machine head and the pain of his depleted heels combine into an even greater pain, fusing together in a passionate dance which is a metaphor for causing misery. Nay, instead Timmy revels in the burning aching crying feeling in his legs, it is almost as if he intentionally marches with extra force so as to extenuate the pain he feels. For his legs carry the key that locks his mind’s thoughts away, to busy as his mind is processing all the neuron cell death feelings being pumped expressly from the ground up.

Eventually, they make it to an apartment building.


	6. Chapter 6

JB knocks on the door of an apartment building. As he does this, meters away from him, Pokimane is livestream to the internet a collated feed of footage showing her playing the video game among us. In the video game among us, she is currently the imposter, and as such is attempting using a variety of social cues to try and convince the rest of the crew on the spaceship she is on that she is not suspicious, and thus not a suspect for suspension from the ship via airlock termination.

“Guys I think I saw Pokimane follow XQc into medbay.” Says Jerma985, playing as a crewmate, playing the game among us on his livestream in order to try and fulfill a contract given to him by his chat saying that every lie he tells on stream in among us would take $2 million off his $2.5 billion dollar debt.

In among us, you are not allowed to speak while you are dead, this is because the game among us is based off the 1986 board game Mafia, sometimes known as Werewolf, and this game had the same issue.

Despite a wide variety of other derivative games having found solutions to the issue of being forced to stay quiet after being killed at the beginning of the game, among us makes no alterations.

Additionally, for some reason, this particular group of gamers have decided to not allow any voicechat speaking to eachother outside of the conference segments of the game, turning an already shoddy social experience into a downright loneliness simulator.

Because of all this as well as a general misanthropic disposition, Jeremy Wang, better known as “Disguised Toast”, sits in his overpriced gamer-chair, his arms crossed, not speaking to his audience chat of over 10,000 viewers, which he has placed into subscriber only mode. The look on his face is barely disguised by the compression algorithm the streaming website uses and as such it is clear to everyone watching that he is not having a good time.

His chat is nearly silence, all of his subscribed members fearful of the permaban that revealing themselves would leave them open to.

Before he is able to begin contemplating banning all of his subscribers for one week, Mr. Wang hears the doorbell ring.

“Ugh no way hose I saw YOU go to med-bay!” Pokimane says this and then makes a face sort of like the face that comes up if you google ‘hmm today i will’.

Jerma does not respond to this immediately, he is at the moment too busy being muted reading the chat message:

🎁wlamzambramcram: ZOMEGALULNKED streamer lies to celebrities’ faces…

After finishing his Jerma laugh, Jerma says “No I saw *you* and now you’re lying, you’re s u s.” By saying this Jerma has earned another $5 million.

10:00am BBT

Huddled like a litter of puppies Sheldon and Eugene curl into the fetal position around one another, both laying on Karen’s motherboard (her breasts).

This very same motherboard was what simulated to Karen the feeling of orgasm through the stimulation of NAND gates through cyclical exploitation of an explosion in a formal logic query; this orgasm occurring simultaneously with Mr. Krabs’s prostate-based climax.

Sheldon J. Plankton did not orgasm, however having been given permission to lick and slurp at Mr. Krab’s prostate for an extended period of time, an acute amount of second-hand pleasure and frustration built up inside Plankton, the pure frustration travelling through his nervous system, stimulating every single end of his body, and giving him a sort of denial-orgasm which has put him to sleep for now.

It is likely he will wake up soon and go do the dishes.

Jeremy Wang is walking out of his bedroom to the apartment stairs. Despite his face being heavy with misery, he makes sure to put on a smile when passing the crack in Pokimane’s door.

As he walks down to the stairs, thousands of miles away, XQc is yelling unintelligibly about the “sus guy”.

Grabbing the door handle to open the door, Disguised Toast laments how he should probably wash his hand after grabbing onto the door handle and considers spitting on the door handle after he is finished with it. This line of reasoning speeds by Disguised Toast, and by the time the door has fully opened, he has already concluded that he should do as much as he can to spread disease in order to ensure as many people die as possible, especially considering that thanks to his vast fortune, he is very unlikely to suffer the consequences his pestilence would bring.

Because of his mind being busy contemplating all the misery and pain he can induce; Mr. Wang barely notices the clown-makeup wearing stout clown-makeup wearing well-dressed man standing on the steps to the apartment door.

As JB’s shadow falls on the man before him, he can immediately tell who he’s dealing with. JB didn’t even need to try and research Jeremy Wang in order to find the litany of deplorable activities he funded, JB wasn’t even aware you could fund child murder, it never even crossed his mind that people like Disguised Toast could funnel their donation and sponsorship money into organizations dedicated to facilitating the spread and proliferation of child mental manipulation and slaughter. And yet, this very activity is a daily hobby for Mr. Wang.

And so, as soon as Toast realizes that JB is standing before him, it takes him only a momentary glance into JB’s eyes to realize the killing intent laid within them.

Disguised Toast knows he hasn’t lived a good, fair or genuine life. He knows that by all accounts his streams and by extension his life have been filled with lazy and pathetic double-entendres, worthless commentary on a game he neither enjoys nor understands, shoutouts to donators whose lives almost rival his own in their emotional destitution, and references to how much money he makes, and also sometimes just vivid descriptions of his coworkers breasts.

JB has full intent to completely and utterly atomize the disgusting part of the soil cycle before him, but in a blink of the eye, he sees Disguised Toast get on his knees, fully prepared for what they both see coming.

Disguised Toast is on his knees, and in his last moments he is imagining what his livestream reaction would be to the current situation he finds himself in, he thinks probably something like “haha no way dude what the fuck, what is going on right now” and then he thinks he’d probably slump down in his chair to show chat how above it all he is.

JB, looking down at Disguised Toast, in his lumpen position of complete and utter defeat, realizes moments before atomization, that at the end of the day, somebody like Jeremy Wang will never amount to anything in of themselves, they are only able to influence the world for the worse due to the obscene luck that led them to having such an influential voice and such influential stacks of cash.

JB notes this, and lo, he begins to operate one of his joker jokes.

JJ is navigating through the labyrinthine halls of the Tipton hotel. On his way he passes many wacky and uncharacteristic situations occurring in the many rooms. Finally, he comes to one of the 48 rooms marked on the printed screenshot of an mspaint painting.

Having been given a master-key, JJ thinks it would be a pretty funny joker joke to pick the lock in order to open the room.

“Crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!” goes the door.

In a puddle of blood, and a pool of piss, Jeremy Wang is in agony on the floor of his apartment entrance, his right hand ballled over his left, both covering his mouth, trying to stop as much blood as possible from escaping it.

Meters away from him, Jeremy Wang’s tongue wriggles on the floor, covered in the dirt thousands of boots have left on the stairs it reddens, it waits patiently to be eaten by a crow.

2 floors above this scene, JB is wiping the blood and dirt from his clown shoes on the doormat of an apartment building, the doormat having been inscribed with the phrase “Leave Onions Here”, JB does not understand the reference.

JB unlocks the apartment door whilst simultaneously adding the key he took (along with a phone) from Wang’s pockets to a comedically full keyring.

On opening the door, JB is stunned by a litany of loud noises and reactions.

“Ohhh my god I can’t believe you guys are actually buying Jerma’s story what the FUCK.” Pokimane exclaims at the top of her lungs, trying to sell to the other players that they shouldn’t suspect her. But the rest of the crewmates sustain their suspicions. Pokimane is thrown out of the airlock.

This leaves senator Shcom Shcusco, who’s playing among us in order to reinvigorate support in his political campaign after his name was found in the panama papers, as the only remaining imposter.

JB walks past the creak into Pokimane’s room, and walks into a bark-floored room, illuminated heavily by fluorescent ring-lights and monitors, JB could likely tell the individual cells of his skin apart under such offensive lighting.

There is a gamer chair before him.

The remaining among us players are: Jerma985, senator Schom Shcusco, senator Amanda Amanders (who’s only playing among us in order to stop Schom from rehabilitating his image and making everyone forget that they voted yes on Bill 199345, a bill which ironically, would’ve made it illegal to livestream in the first place), VaushVidya, Amouranth, Victoria Justice, and Nyanners. At the exact same moment, they all realize what a terrible game among us is, and all of them independently decided that they would abruptly suspend their stream short and later blame it on a faulty internet connection.

Finding a comfortable position in a gamer chair is extremely difficult, but JB nevertheless adjusts himself in the chair, finding himself placed before a steamer setup.

His eyes are greeted with the following twitch chat messages:

👑MindSharkShark: Hark! Who this?

🍞✔rollerstroller342: Who this? weirdChamp

🍞8heartbreak8: Who tf this? CmonBruh CmonBruh CmonBruh

⚔🍞Peppa_Peepo_Pepper: showtime PepeDD

🍞kborgitron: is this the Jerma clown bit?

⚔🍞Peppa_Peepo_Pepper: @kborgitron yeah TehePelo

👑robotwise: I’m so excited to see toast do the Jerma ‘is this a currency’ thing joke, this is so exciting, I’m extremely impressed he managed to change clothes and put clown makeup on so quickly, thank you for taking my suggestion, I will be sure to donate once I get my paycheck : )

🍞kborgitron: JERMA CLOWN BIT jermaVenus jermaVenus

JB’s eyes soon adjust to the speed of Disguised Toast’s chat, and JB begins to speak:

“What game is this?”

🍞🎁yaboizozu: CLOWN VOICE PogChamp

🍞crobe_lobe_: CLOWN MODE POGGERS PogChamp

👑✔smallcatBIGcat: PogChamp PogChamp PogChamp

JB is tired from the bus ride to Los Angeles, he would like some time to unwind, additionally he partakes in the video games every now and then. JB suspends the among us application in task manager, he opens Steam and double clicks on Risk of Rain 2.

👑💠chunkyWater: ROR2 AYAYA AYAYA AYAYA

🍞obamaobamaobama: what game is this?

🍞🔋youKnowGuysIts: IN GAME ROLEPLAY POGGERS PepeClap

🍞💠✔SogRogBogSrogRbog: HeyGuys

Inside the room, JJ finds a double bed, it’s sheets perfectly fitted, there are no crumpled folds on the bed.

There is a bathroom, it has a tiled floor, the towels are encrusted with the Tipton logo in gold thread.

There is dust accumulated on top of the ceiling fan.

One of the brackets on the wall mounted television was drilled in too tightly, and the cracks that formed due to this mechanical overzealousness were painted over.

There are 8 plastic coat-hangers inside the wardrobe.

Jerma is still $2 billion dollars in debt.


End file.
